


Scars

by Flamicia



Series: War Wounds [3]
Category: Pathfinder (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Torture, Liv's got problems and a bitch aint one, Recovery, Scars, Self-Hatred, mental and physical, more self indulgent writing, post war emotional mericals, torborg is mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-07
Updated: 2016-09-07
Packaged: 2018-08-13 13:07:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7977808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flamicia/pseuds/Flamicia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After years of adventuring and conflict Livs skin is a map of scars and marks from past injuries. Diaries knows the stories behind all of them</p><p>Diaras, Liv and the way time seems to heal all wounds</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scars

**Author's Note:**

> bit of a major time skip in this one, hence the straddling of two series of mine, but otherwise its another one of my works thats gonna make my gm find new ways to upset me. Many thanks to this fic's beta, fae for jumping on this at such short notice. Enjoy the fic everybody!

“What's this one from?” Diaras asked, tracing the scar that danced its way over the bridge of Liv’s nose as the dwarf chuckled 

 

“Slavers, right after I crossed the border into Ci’err” came her reply, as she reached over to trace a scar crawling over Diaras’ hip, the skin knotted and bumpy around the edges. “This one?”

 

“First mercenary job. Some fuckshit gnome bandit got a bit too close with his knife. Didn’t stop me from getting him right between the eyes anyway” The halfling replied, frowning a little at the memory before tracing over the thin, jagged, network of scars draping over her girlfriend's shoulders. Her frown deepened. “Al’verin?”

 

“Al’verin.” Came the whispered reply, almost drowned out by the sounds of Toran’s snoring pushing their way through the paper thin walls of the inn they were staying at. 

 

There was a soft rustling of the sheets as Diaras pulled the dwarf closer at that response, as if trying to ward off the memories of the fight where death had nearly claimed the dwarf permanently. 

 

“I’ll get him for that….” She murmured, burying her face in the crook of the dwarfs neck

 

Liv huffed, curling her arms around Diaras in return, knowing exactly how terrifying the halfling in her arms was during a fight. “I thought I said I had dibs on killing him”

 

“You may have dibs on the final blow, but that doesn’t mean I won't get a shot or two in.” Diaras snarked, looking up with a smirk that liv had come to associate with the halfling finding a suitable challenge.

 

“You’re always finding loopholes, aren’t you?” the dwarf chuckled before tracing a small starburst shaped scar on Diaras’ shoulder “what's this one from?”

 

“That stupid Knoll bitch we keep running into. She's still pissed about me shooting off her hat”   
  
“You gunslingers and your hats, I swear to Nudge.”

 

“Hey! As if you're not attached to that axe you wave around like its nothing”   
  
“That's different! I made the thing myself! It’s specifically suited to what I want and need in a weapon!” 

 

“How is that different?”

 

“One is useful, the other is aesthetic and you know it”

 

“Go to sleep before I smother you with my supposedly useless hat”

 

The dwarf let out a chuckle, the sound reminding Diaras of thunder before a summer storm.

 

“Fine, fine. Goodnight Diaras”

 

“Night Liv”

* * *

 

In the next few months they and their friends would defeat Tyncerus, smash it’s following and spare Harryn’s life, but not without Liv punching him in the face for his betrayal in the first place. 

 

The years would pass, they would fall deeper in love and eventually marry, planning to spend the rest of their lives with each other until war tore them apart.

 

Liv would die in battle. Diaras would mourn, then pick up her guns and face the world with a baby on her back and her wife’s best friend at her side.

 

And then, five years later, Liv would come crashing back into her wife's life, broken and beaten by a sorcerer who owed allegiance to a name Diaras hadn’t associated with danger in more than a decade.

 

Thyncerus the Devouring.

 

But, before the halfling could put a neat hole in between her enemy for hopefully the last time, she had to bring Liv back from the brink of breaking that she had been pushed to. And well, that was slow going....

* * *

 

Liv sat on the edge of the bed in the room she and Diaras had once shared. It had been little more than three months since her captors had sent her after her wife, son, and friend. And while she had made great steps in her mental recovery after being held captive for so long, she still often felt herself fumbling, trying to scrape together the pieces of her mind and arrange them in a way that made sense. Her memories were all over the place. Sometimes it was hard to distinguish what was real and what was a figment of her imagination. 

 

She sighed, shaking away the fog of her thoughts before pulling off her tunic, setting it aside before turning to pick up the traditional formal garments of her clan, her fingers running over the familiar fabric, jumping as there was a sharp knock on the door. 

 

“Liv, I’m coming in” Diaras called, her voice muffled quite a bit by the thick wooden door. 

 

“Okay” she replied, standing up and turning her back to the door as she heard it open, still having trouble looking at her wife after the events revolving around their reunion. 

 

“Torborg is getting antzy, you anywhere close to being ready?” The halfling asked, her hand reaching out to gently touch her forearm, brushing against where a thick ropey scar twisted its way across the dwarf’s bicep.

 

“Bandits” Liv said, out of the blue, remembering the night years ago where they lay together in a tangle of limbs and recounted where every scar on their bodies came from. “That scars from bandits, right after I left home the first time”

 

Diaras drew in a shaky breath in response, probably remembering the same thing she was, sliding her hand over her shoulder and to the small of her back. The scar from the lightning spell that had killed her the first time still shining pink and raw against her skin even after all these years. “Al’verin?”

 

“Al’verin” The dwarf replied, turning to face the halfling and placing a hand on her chest. The same spot where she knew that under the other woman’s dress clothes there would be the horrible looking scar left by her axe. “Me”

 

“No.” Her wife growled almost immediately “This one is the fault of that fuckshit who hurt you and then made you attack me against your will”   
  
“Diaras…… it was still my axe that did this…..” She murmured, looking down at the ground “It was still my hands….”

 

“No. Nope. No.” She replied, grabbing the dwarfs hands and holding them tightly “Your hands aren’t the hands that would do this of their free will. These are hands that protect. They’re hands that wouldn’t kill Harryn despite how mad we all were at him. They’re hands that have protected me and the others time and time again. They’re hands that prefer to create rather than destroy. These, Liv Blödaxe, are good hands, and yes you’ve made mistakes with these hands, but you’ve done much more good than bad with them. Your hands do not have my blood on them, so stop trying to convince yourself they do.” 

 

Liv opened her mouth, searching for a retort before sighing and smiling softly, her demons seeming to shrink away at her wife’s words “What did i ever do to deserve you?” 

 

“Awkwardly danced around me for months while the fate of the world was in the balance” Diaras chuckled in reply “And besides, someone's gotta shoot your ass into line when you get in trouble” she tapped the pink starburst of skin on the dwarfs right shoulder “Me. Now get dressed already, so your nerd of a brother doesn’t rip my ass apart cause you’re too busy pouting”

 

And with that last remark she walked back out, seeming to take all of Liv’s doubt and self hatred with her.


End file.
